


Shadows & Spirits & Ghosts

by SensationalSunburst



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, POV Outsider, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 08:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: The Lord Protector was no ghost.That was not to say he wasn’t haunted.





	Shadows & Spirits & Ghosts

Most of the Court called the Royal Protector “the Shadow.” But sometimes they called him “the Ghost.”

'Shadow' made sense to Lady Melinoe Roth since Corvo Attano shadowed the Empress everywhere. He stood to the right and just behind her throne and sat at her right at luncheons and banquets, going generally unnoticed and unacknowledged.

He was very good at blending in with the shadows with his dark hair and tan skin and the harsh cut of dark coat.

It was a fine coat, presented to him after the Rat Plague by her family, earning the Empress’s favor and a position at Court for herself; her family's youngest daughter.

She did not understand however, why they called him a 'ghost' in quiet, fearful whispers. At times, his face would contort across the room as if he could hear them, but Corvo was no ghost.

She knew this factually.

She could, after all, see ghosts.

She had always seen them. The wispy, translucent remnants of souls that sometimes floated in the fog that clung heavily to Dunwalls streets. They stuck to shadows and shallows, and evaporated in the sun like mist. Those in the water lasted longer, hovering near the hagfish and the docks until the surface of the water warmed. Sometimes they were shapeless blobs of grey or black or purple, sometimes picture perfect replicas of the living, but they always lingered longest in buildings.

Dunwall Tower had its share of ghosts. They collected in dark corners and fireplaces, shading statues and even the throne itself.  

The Lord Protector - Corvo -  was no ghost.

That was not to say he wasn’t haunted.

At times, Corvo waded through ghosts as thick as stormy seafoam. They curled around his boots, climbed up his legs and hung off the sword strapped to his side like cobwebs.

But they were never there when the Young Man was.

The Young Man dressed sharply like a noble, all in dark navy. midnight and supple grays. He stood smaller than Corvo in every way, with dark hair that always looked a little damp and startling obsidian eyes. They were black as if they had been painted over with ink. He always stood with pale hands clasped behind his back, solid as if he were real, but there was something to his edges that seemed _off_. As if he was evaporating into the muggy air or being observed underwater.

Melinoe made a point of never looking at him for too long. She had years of practice in avoidance, of course, and the benefit of being thought of as ‘eccentric.’ It was a privilege, she knew, for if she had been anyone other than who she was, born to any other family, the Overseers would have surely taken her away as a child for the kinds of things she used to say.

The Young Man always stood very close to Corvo, never quite touching, but close enough that if the Lord Protector were to shift he would pass right through him. Luckily, the Lord Protector rarely moved while Court was in session, except to turn his head or eyes to inspect them all dispassionately. Most of the time the Young Man smiled and stared at Corvo, but if the Lord Protector could see him, he didn’t show it.

Lady Roth, as more of an observer than a true participant in Court, was positioned far enough away from the throne to be generally unnoticed but not so far as to be unable to notice that the young man occasionally seemed to speak as well. Neither Corvo nor the Empress ever reacted. Still, it appeared that at times the Young Man had something to say.

She liked to imagine that he was commenting on Sir Franklinton’s outrageous hair piece, or the shrewdness of Lady Abanton voice as she protested, yet again, a modest tax increase in support of education.

* * *

 

“Outsiders Eyes.” Sir Franklinton hissed and around him, his posse hissed at him to be quiet.

Lady Roth, stationed in the back of the ballroom with her sister frowned and turned her back on the pockets of conversation.

“It doesn’t make much sense, I say.” She said.

“What doesn’t?” Her sister asked.

“Why we can’t speak of the Outsider.” She made sure to pitch her voice lower than Sir Franklington’s had been, but her sister still shushed her as soon as the word left her lips, “He’s said to be the god of the Void, yes?”

“Yes.” Her sister sighed.

“And it _is_ said our souls go to the Void upon death?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is it so…” She paused, searching for the right word. Her sister’s eyes widened and she stood up from the slouch she’d adopted to grip fiercely at Melione's arm.

“ _Quiet!_ ”

“No, not quite- taboo? Forbidden?”

“Stop talking!” Her sister hissed, and at the same moment as she heard someone clear their throat beside her. Melinoe turned automatically, stepping back to form a circle for conversation but froze when she saw Empress Emily Kaldwin standing next to her.

“Ah! Oh! _Empress_! Good evening!” Melione stuttered, but the Empress, dressed in an extremely similar color scheme to the Royal Protector, merely smiled.

“Good evening, Lady Roth, Lady Rowell.” She said, “Pardon my interruption-”

“No, your Majesty-” Her sister stuttered, but Melione’s entire person short circuited as the Young Man, the Lord Protector’s ghost, strolled up to stand beside him.

He was looking right at her.

Ink, she thought absurdly, was inaccurate. Obsidian was a far better descriptor. His eyes glittered in the ballroom’s lights, multifaceted like gems and fathomless.

She looked away immediately as she broke out in goosebumps, ignoring the Lord Protector’s gaze to stare desperately at the Empress.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” She laughed, “I simply wished to say that I agreed with your sentiment, as unpopular with our friends, the Overseers, as they may be.”

Melione gaped and her sister betrayed her by excusing herself, complaining of thirst, leaving her alone with the Empress, the Lord Protector and his ghost.

“I have always valued diversity of thought, your Majesty.” Melione said.

The young man’s face split into a smile, one which somehow gave them impression that he had far too many teeth.

“Melione Roth has always glimpsed the unseen,” the Young Man drawled. His voice was deeper than she imagined, “She knows that only wealth and privilege saved her from the Overseers. She is the best keeper of secrets in all of Dunwall.”

“Your family made my coat,” The Lord Protector said, speaking as if he had not heard the Young Man, “The craftsmanship is exquisite, thank you.”

“Ah!” The Empress smiled, “That’s right! I have several garments from your shop as well, they’re magnificent.”

Had they not heard him speak?

Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel herself sweating beneath her tailored vest.

“It is an honor to be of service.” Melione choked.

“Truly an asset to us all. If you please, I’d like for you to sit a bit closer at Court, you and your sister are so always far away.” The Empress glanced up and to the side, through the Young Man’s face, at the Lord Protector. He inclined his head in agreement.

“If you’ll excuse me. Please share my regard with your sister.” The Empress said and, without another word, turned and walked off, the Lord Protector and Young Man at her side.

It was only when they walked away did she realize that they kept just far enough apart for the Young Man to stand between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Experimenting with style and more POV outsider!


End file.
